Snapshots of a Third Year tentative title
by Jay'a and Shiane
Summary: Through the entire history of this school there's never been an ethics class, Professor Sharick. What do we need one now for" Professor Snape is about to find out. A third-year story, mostly Professor Snape POV. (A Jay'a creation)
1. Arrival

"Headmaster, I must strongly object to both these appointments."  
  
"I know you do, Severus."  
  
"Headmaster, I'm not sure you -"  
  
"Well, hello Professors!"  
  
"Ah, Hagrid, excellent. Severus, would you mind accompanying Hagrid down to the gate? Professor Sharick should be here momentarily."

* * *

Severus Snape gritted his teeth all the way down to the gate. _Two new appointments. How –  
_  
"Anythin' wrong Professor Snape?"  
  
Snape threw a withering sidelong glance at the oaf of a man walking beside him, but said nothing. _Correction_, he thought, _three new appointments_. As if Rubeus Hagrid as the Care of Magical Creatures "professor" wasn't bad enough, Professor Dumbledore had hired Remus Lupin – Remus Lupin! – as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. And now this Professor Sharick was coming to teach Ethics. Ethics, ha! Whoever heard of such a thing at Hogwarts? Hundreds, possibly thousands, of students had gotten along perfectly well without it. Who did this woman think she was anyway?  
  
"Eh, professor? I think that's her carriage comin' up now."  
  
Snape looked up from his brooding. There was a carriage, its lantern lights just illuminating the drizzle-rain in the dark. Snape pictured an almost dowdy older woman, perhaps around Minerva McGonagall's age, though not commanding nearly the respect that she had. And she'd be short. Short and stout.  
  
The carriage pulled to a stop and Snape watched with sudden interest as Professor Sharick stepped out and accepted help from the driver with her luggage; there wasn't much. She gave the carriage's leathery stead a pat and waved to the driver as he pulled away.  
  
"You must be Professor Sharick! I'm Rubeus Hagrid, gamekeeper and Care o' Magical Creatures teacher. You can jus' call me Hagrid, everyone does. It's nice to meet ya!"  
  
She laughed. "Certainly, Hagrid, the pleasure's all mine."  
  
He lifted her trunk and the larger of the two bags. "I'll jus' take these down to yer office for ya."  
  
"Thank you, I appreciate that."  
  
Snape had gotten over his initial shock at his only correct prediction being that she was short. Now it was merely his ears that were shocked. She couldn't possibly be.... They wouldn't hire – would they?  
  
He stepped in front of her as she picked up the smaller bag and made to follow Hagrid. "Professor Severus Snape," he said. "Potions Master."  
  
"Sara Sharick," she said, offering her hand. "How do you do?"  
  
He didn't take her hand. "I objected to your appointment, you know."  
  
She nodded slowly. "I see. Yes, I'd heard someone on the staff had. I would hope, then, Professor, that your having been overruled will not damage our professional relationship. Let's get out of the rain, shall we?"  
  
What kind of reaction was that? Snape caught up with her in a few quick steps. This woman, this _American_ woman, had just verbally sidestepped him. He didn't know anything about her. And she was young! _She can't be more than 25_, he thought. _Thirty if she hides it well. Entirely too young and inexperienced to be teaching something so lofty as Ethics. Maybe she's at least from somewhere respectable. Like Salem._ "You're an American."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"From...?" he prompted.  
  
"Upstate New York. If you like cows and snow, it's the place to be," she said.  
  
Upstate New York? Was that near Salem? Professor Snape suddenly wished he had a better knowledge of American geography. _A respectable school then?_ "I see. Then you went to...which wizarding school did you say?"  
  
"Um, I didn't." She twirled her short hair in her fingers.  
  
Entirely too literal minded. "I realize you didn't s – wait...you didn't?" He stopped and faced her. "Are you telling me that you've received no formal instruction in magic?"  
  
"Well, you see, I came into being a witch rather...late."  
  
"Late."  
  
"Yes, late. So I've been through Muggle primary school, high school, and college."  
  
This was ridiculous. "You do realize this is a school of witchcraft and wizardry. With no formal instruction you're hardly qualified to teach here."  
  
"But to teach Ethics, Professor Snape? Ethics is boundless. Whether wizard, Muggle, or Martian, the basic principle of Ethics, how and where they're acquired, and then applied, don't change." She glanced behind her. "Ah, I do believe this is my office. Professor Snape, I want to thank you for walking me down here. As much as I would like to stay and continue our discussion, I'm afraid it will have to wait. The trip across the Atlantic is lengthy and it's getting late. So if you will excuse me." She inclined her head slightly to him and shut the door behind her.  
  
Snape walked back to Professor Dumbledore's office. _This is outrageous_, he thought. _No formal instruction. I'll have her appointment terminated immediately._

* * *

Professor Snape gritted his teeth. Two days. For two days he had unsuccessfully argued with the Headmaster over Professor Sharick's appointment. Dumbledore had finally closed the argument, pointing out that no formal instruction didn't necessarily mean no instruction at all and that she was perfectly qualified to teach Ethics, which, he agreed, had very little to do performing magic. Now at the opening feast Snape was forced to sit next to her with Lupin on her other side.  
  
Lupin. He'd laugh, but it was hardly funny. A werewolf was entirely too dangerous to be teaching. For once he was glad he was the Potions professor. He wouldn't have trusted the Wolfsbane potion to anyone else.  
  
And equally important, in his opinion, was the example he'd set for the students. Professor Snape doubted that Lupin had changed at all since school. If there was any continuation of the sort of asinine and dangerous pranks that had defined Lupin and company in school then the whole place was going to hell. And besides, he was probably going to give Potter all kinds of "special consideration," especially with Black out and about and Dementors roaming the grounds.  
  
Dementors. Maybe that was why he was in a fouler mood than normal. Not that anyone else would notice. Lupin said that the one on the train had caused Potter to pass out. He wasn't quite sure what to think about that.  
  
The new first years started to file in. Professor Snape had caught up with Marcus Flint and Draco Malfoy as they had come in for their observations from the train. Some definite Slytherins, they said; some obvious Gryffindors. It was hard to tell with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, if you weren't one.  
  
The staff table fell silent. Lupin and Sharick paused their discussion of her Muggle background. The students quieted down, eagerly awaiting their new arrivals. Professor McGonagall laid the Sorting Hat on its stool and unrolled her parchment.  
  
"Blane, Trent."

* * *

"Good evening, Severus."  
  
Professor Snape didn't stop walking. "Did you want something Lupin?"  
  
"Well, no, not exactly..."  
  
"Then if you will excuse me, I have an early class of sixth - "  
  
"Professor Lupin! Professor Snape!"  
  
There was that damned American accent again. Professor Snape didn't think he'd ever get used to it.  
  
"Good evening, Professor Sharick," Lupin said. "Did you enjoy the feast?"  
  
"Oh yes, very much so," she said. "I'm still not sure I entirely understand the Sorting that went on, but that's neither here nor there at this point," she added, waving it off.  
  
_Big surprise_, Professor Snape thought.  
  
"I'm glad I caught up with you though, because I was wondering if I might ask a favor of each of you."  
  
"Of course," Lupin said. "Ask away."  
  
"Lupin, you may have infinite time on your hands; I, however, have an early class, so - "  
  
"Oh, this'll take no time at all Professor Snape," Professor Sharick assured him. "I was just wondering if you'll allow me to, um, observe one of your classes."  
  
Professor Snape looked down at her. "What do you mean, 'observe'?"  
  
"Well, just watch. Check things out. See what the kids are used to. I'll be discreet, I promise. You won't even know I'm there. The students won't even know I'm there."  
  
"When?"  
  
"Tomorrow or Thursday, I hope. I suppose it all depends on your schedule of classes and mine."  
  
"And you'll be discreet?"  
  
"The epitome of discreet."  
  
"Fine." Anything to get her away from him at the moment. "Inform me before you attend. Good night." Professor Snape turned and continued down to the dungeons.  
  
"Thank you Professor, I appreciate it. Good night!"  
  
Professor Snape quickened his pace, hoping she wouldn't talk to him again. Hers and Lupin's voices became smaller.  
  
"Professor Lupin, do you mind?"  
  
"Not at all, stop in whenever you like..."


	2. Unprofessional

_Thursday morning, it had to be Thursday morning_. Professor Snape nearly broke a vial as he slammed it down, preparing for his next class of third-year Slytherins and Gryffindors. Supposedly this was the class she had chosen to observe, but she hadn't shown up yet. _Americans_, he thought, _have the worst sense of timing_.  
  
"Possibly no one's warned you Lupin," Professor Snape said, "but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."  
  
Professor Lupin smiled slightly. "I was hoping Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform admirably."  
  
Professor Snape scowled and swept out of the staff room. Lupin wasn't fooling anyone. Neville Longbottom had as much magical talent as a head of lettuce. Odd really, considering his parents...  
  
"A moment of your time, Professor Snape?"  
  
_Now she decides to show up_. "Really, Professor Sharick, I'm very busy right now. Perhaps some other time - "  
  
She stepped in front of him. "Now, Professor."  
  
He didn't have time for this. "Perhaps you didn't hear me when I said I was busy. Now, if you'll excuse me." He moved to go around her, but she blocked him. He narrowed his eyes at her and tried to move around the other way, but she blocked him again.  
  
"Now. Professor," she said, holding her ground.  
  
"Very well, make it quick, what is it."  
  
"Professor, I think your comment in the staff room was extremely unprofessional."  
  
_What? She wasn't even in there_. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Your comment, Professor - "  
  
"I heard what you said."  
  
Professor Sharick shook her head. "It was most inappropriate Professor Snape. I shouldn't like to hear something like that again."  
  
_The absolute gall_. "I see. Was that all?"  
  
"Professor Snape, I'm being serious."  
  
"As am I. Are you finished?"  
  
She gave a slight sigh and pursed her lips. "Yes."  
  
"Good." He brushed past her, clenching his fists. How dare she...  
  
"Oh, Professor Snape, there was one other thing," she called after him. "I did enjoy watching you teach this morning."  
  
He whipped back around to face her. "What?" You didn't show up!  
  
"Your third-year class this morning," she continued. "You're obviously very knowledgeable on your subject and quite passionate about it. And also very interested in making sure your students learn. I was very impressed."  
  
"But - "  
  
"And you were quite right."  
  
"About – what?"  
  
"Miss Granger," she said. "She certainly shouldn't be whispering instructions to Mr. Longbottom." She shook her head. "That's not how people learn. Perhaps what he needs is a tutor, someone he can work one-on-one with, not to tell him the answers, but to help him find a way to figure them out on his own."  
  
"But you weren't there," Professor Snape said, somehow finding his voice. "I didn't see you come in."  
  
"I told you, you wouldn't," she said. "And neither would the students." She smiled. "I promised you, did I not Professor Snape, the epitome of discreet?"  
  
He stared at her.  
  
"Now you must excuse me," she said, smiling, her eyes glinting, "but I must get back to the staff room. Good day Professor Snape."  
  
"Yes," he murmured as she disappeared through the staff room door. "Good day."  
  
Professor Snape poked at his breakfast the next morning. He hadn't seen her since the previous afternoon – he'd eaten dinner alone while grading summer essays. Though he hadn't actually gotten much grading accomplished. That word kept rolling around in his head – unprofessional. His behavior had never been characterized that way before, certainly not in the same breath as an approval of his teaching style.  
  
He stole a glance at her still empty chair next to him, then took another stab at his eggs.  
  
"Good morning Professor Lupin, Professor Snape."  
  
"Ah, Professor Sharick," Professor Lupin said. "So sorry about yesterday. All my fault."  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
Professor Snape's attention left his eggs again.  
  
"Yesterday afternoon," Professor Lupin said. "I took my third-year Gryffindors to the staff room. You hadn't come in yet and I meant to leave you a note, but I forgot. Do forgive me."  
  
Professor Snape frowned. _Curious...  
_  
"Oh! Not at all Professor Lupin," Professor Sharick said. "I did miss the beginning, but that was my fault; I'd stopped to talk to someone. I caught most of it though. Boggarts. Very interesting."  
  
"Oh, I didn't realize – but I didn't see - "  
  
"She promised the epitome of discreet Lupin," Professor Snape said. "Weren't you paying attention?"  
  
"Ah. Yes. Of course she did."  
  
She raised an eyebrow at professor Snape who quickly turned back to his eggs. _Shouldn't have said that.  
_  
She peered at him for a moment as he rearranged his bacon. "Professor Snape, is there something wrong?" she asked.  
  
He shifted to be able to look down at her. "What," he said, "would make you think that?"  
  
"Oh, ah, nothing," she said. She started in on her own breakfast and struck up another line of conversation with Professor Lupin.


	3. First Class

Professor Sharick sat on her desk, her feet dangling a few inches from the floor, as her first class of third-years filed in. She had all forty of them, just like her fifth and sixth-years, so she knew that were going to be a bit unsure of all forty of them in the same room also. And just like her fifth and sixth-years, they all sat by house: Gryffindors and Slytherins in the back on opposite sides of the room, Ravenclaws in front of the Slytherins, and Hufflepuffs in front of the Gryffindors. Ah well, she wasn't going to move them. Yet.  
  
She hopped off her desk. "Good morning everyone."  
  
"Good morning Professor Sharick," the class chorused.  
  
"I'll call roll first before we get started. If you could raise your hand when I call your name so I can start matching names to faces, that would be great. Hannah Abbott." A Hufflepuff girl in the front raised her hand. "Susan Bones." Another Hufflepuff girl. "Terry Boot." A Ravenclaw boy.  
  
As she called off names, Professor Sharick made notes on who was who and where she might want to seat them. "Hermione Granger."  
  
She recognized the bushy-haired Gryffindor who shot her hand in the air from Professor Snape's class. _Back_, she noted.  
  
"Neville Longbottom." She remembered this Gryffindor boy from professor Lupin's class. The boy next to him nudged him a couple of times before he remembered to put his hand up. Several of the Slytherins snickered. _Front_.  
  
"Draco Malfoy." A handsome boy with short white-blonde hair in the middle of the Slytherin group raised his unbandaged hand. _Front_.  
  
"Padma Patil...Parvati Patil." She nodded. Different houses, good.  
  
"Harry Potter." The black-haired boy next to Neville raised his hand. "Ron Weasley." The red-haired boy next to Harry. "And Blaise Zabini." A Slytherin boy in the absolute back of the classroom raised his hand. "Excellent, we're all here."  
  
Professor Sharick pulled a large stack of parchments off her desk. "A quick note before we get started," she said. "The seats you're sitting in will not be the seats you'll sit in next week."  
  
The class murmured at this as she counted off five parchment packets and handed them to Ernie Macmillan at the end of the first Hufflepuff row. "I want you to take one packet and pass the rest down your row," she said, handing another five to Mandy Brocklehurst on the Ravenclaw side. "What I'm handing out right now is your course syllabus. It contains everything you need to know about how I intend to run this class. It includes the course overview, my grading policy, my attendance policy – mandatory of course – and a calendar of test dates and assignment due dates. Do not lose this."  
  
Back at the front of the classroom, she pulled her own copy off her desk. "I'm sure you're all capable of reading this and I encourage you to do so, so I'll just go over the highlights."  
  
She hopped up on her desk again. "This third-year class is an introductory ethics class. We'll be discussing what ethics is, what morality is, where they come from, how they're acquired, and what can happen in their absence. That makes this primarily a discussion class and class participation is very important. Class participation includes, but is not limited to, showing up on time, showing up prepared, and making an effort to answer questions in class.  
  
"The two major components of your grade, however," she continued," will be your papers and the group work. Clear, concise writing is important; you'll be graded on your content and your mechanics, and please stick to the word-count guidelines I've given you.  
  
"The group work is really the fun part of the class. You'll be put into groups of four and given some kind of task. After completing the task your group will have to give a short presentation on your findings to the class." Several students' eyes went wide at the mention of presentations.  
  
Professor Sharick checked her watch. Fifteen minutes left. "Any questions?"  
  
One of the Ravenclaw girls raised her hand. "Yes, Miss...?"  
  
"Turpin. Lisa Turpin."  
  
"Yes, Miss Turpin."  
  
"Professor, will we get to chose who we work with for the groups?"  
  
"For in-class group assignments, sometimes, yes, but for the major group projects listed in the syllabus, no, I'll be choosing groups." She scanned the room for any more hands. She nodded to the back. "Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
He seemed slightly concerned that she already knew his name. "What's the point?"  
  
Professor Sharick raised an eyebrow. "The point?"  
  
"Yeah. Through the entire history of this school there's never been an ethics class. What do we need one now for?" He leaned back on the hind legs of his chair as the rest of the Slytherins nodded their agreement.  
  
"An excellent question, Mr. Malfoy, one that is at the heart of the topics we'll be covering this year, and we'll certainly build to that."  
  
Draco put the front legs of his chair back on the floor and scowled at her.  
  
"In order to do that," Professor Sharick continued, "we need to know exactly what it is we're talking about when we say 'ethics.' Can anyone tell me what ethics is?"  
  
Predictably, Hermione shot her hand in the air and waved it around like a beacon. Professor Sharick waited in case someone else wanted to try too, but no one did. "Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione took a breath, obviously pleased that the teacher already knew her name. "Ethics," she said, "is a set of moral principals, or the study of the general nature - "  
  
"Stop, stop, stop, Miss Granger," Professor Sharick cut her off. "You sound like you're reading to me out of a dictionary. Reword it, at least, please."  
  
Hermione's mouth hung open for a moment. "Oh," she said. "Um...oh. Um, well, it's, it's doing the right thing."  
  
"Okay, good start." Professor Sharick pulled her attendance sheet off her desk. "Hmm...Mr. Finch-Fletchley." A Hufflepuff boy raised his hand. "Ah, good. Add to what Miss Granger said."  
  
Justin's eyes widened a bit as he shifted in his chair. "Um...it's doing the right thing even when no one is looking?"  
  
"Good. Yes Miss...?" She pointed to a Ravenclaw girl.  
  
"Mandy Brocklehurst," she said. "It's doing the right thing even when dealing with people you don't get along with."  
  
"Excellent! Yes, thank you for volunteering." Profesor Sharick checked her watch again. "We only have a few minutes left so we'll pick this up again next class. You have two short assignments for next week. The first - " she waited a moment as everyone pulled out parchments and quills "– will be graded on a pass/fail basis. You either do it or you don't. I want you to write, in about 250 words, a brief introduction of yourself, where you're from, hobbies you enjoy, that kind of thing. The second assignment will be graded on the regular grading scale. Take no more than about 350 words and describe to me one instance in which you feel you acted ethically and one instance in which you acted unethically. Please be truthful," she added. "I prefer a simple truth over a fantastic lie."  
  
Professor Sharick spotted Draco whispering to one of the boys next to him. "Question, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"No," he said, and smirked at her.  
  
She nodded. "No simple lies either," she said to the class, throwing Draco a small smile of her own. "I have the highest expectations of all of you and that includes being truthful. Are there any questions on those two assignments?" There were none and the bell rang. "Very well, class dismissed." 


	4. Of Newspapers, Sirius Black, and Shakesp...

Professor Snape sat in the staff room continuing to grade papers. He usually preferred his office for the privacy, but as it was the first weekend and very little homework had been assigned, students were tearing about the halls, catching up with their friends, and heading outside. He'd already yelled at several Slytherins for making too much noise outside his office. He hadn't given them detention, of course, but it had been enough of an interruption to prompt him to move.  
  
It was quiet and empty at least, and tidy. The house elves had obviously been in. The tea mugs were clean and put away, a stack of recent _Daily Prophets_ sat at the center of the table, the candles were trimmed, and the couch and chair cushions were straightened. And, of course, the boggart had been chased out.  
  
Professor Snape gritted his teeth and tried to return his focus to grading essays. He was glad he'd brought his upperclassmen essays instead of his underclassmen. He didn't really feel like looking at any third-year names at the moment. He pulled the next one off the top of the pile. Percy Weasley. Not what he needed. Putting that one at the bottom of the pile, he pulled a non-descript Hufflepuff's paper from the top and got back to work.  
  
Nearly finished with his fifth-year pile now, Professor Snape was debating whether to take a break or just finish it off when Professor Sharick entered the room.  
  
"Oh sorry," she said. "I didn't realize you were working in here." She turned to leave.  
  
"It doesn't exactly preclude you from being in here," Professor Snape said.  
  
"Oh, yes, of course." Professor Sharick made her way to the opposite end of the table and picked up that day's _Daily Prophet_.  
  
Professor Snape watched her read. She scanned the front-page article, about Sirius Black, and paged through the rest of the paper, frowning, with her lips pursed and occasionally shaking her head. It occurred to Professor Snape that, coming directly to the school from the United States, she probably didn't know much about Sirius Black. He imagined that, given the opportunity, she'd have a few choice words on ethics and professionalism for him.  
  
"He's insane you know," he said. "Obsessed."  
  
She didn't look up. "How do you know?"  
  
"Everybody knows."  
  
"But I mean has been clinically declared insane, are you speaking from personal experience, or do you just read this _newspaper_?" She turned a page.  
  
_Lupin didn't tell her...no, he wouldn't have, not to a stranger_. "Personal experience," Professor Snape said.  
  
Professor Sharick glanced up and nodded. "I see."  
  
Professor Snape waited for her to explain herself, but it seemed she wasn't going to. She continued to read, looking more and more disgusted after each article. _She's not nearly as afraid as she ought to be_, he thought. "What you're reading," he asked, "does that frighten you?"  
  
"No," she said putting the paper down. "Should it?"  
  
Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. "A deranged criminal kills thirteen people, escapes from prison, and is purportedly on his way to this school. Most people who read that paper would be frightened. Especially if they are unfamiliar with the situation." He waited for an outburst along the lines of her not being afraid of anything. It didn't come.  
  
She laughed. "Are you telling me that people actually read this stuff?"  
  
Professor Snape raised his chin. "The _Daily Prophet_ is _the_ premier wizarding paper in England. It's distributed throughout Europe and printed in at least five languages. What's wrong with it?" Actually, Professor Snape had never cared for the _Daily Prophet_ either, but for some reason he felt obligated to defend it.  
  
"Plenty," Professor Sharick replied.  
  
"_Such as..._" he prompted.  
  
Professor Sharick folded up the paper and tossed it on the table. "The _Daily Prophet_ is the best example of poor news writing I've ever seen," she said. "It's one-sided, incomplete, and editorialized to the nth degree. That means the staff is lazy, incompetent, or they have an agenda. The problem with that, especially with only one main news source, is that most people don't stop to consider that what they're reading may be biased or incomplete, and they take every word as the gospel truth."  
  
Professor Snape blinked.  
  
"I boggles my mind that a group of editors would let this go to print every day," she continued. "If they don't know any better, then they shouldn't be editors. If they do know better, then they've done themselves, their readership, and the profession of journalism a great disservice. It's irresponsible, unprofessional, and extremely unethical. That, more than the content, is what frightens me."  
  
"You sound like you know and awful lot about newspapers," said Professor Lupin, who'd come in during Professor Sharick's rant.  
  
"Some," she said. "I worked for two summers at my hometown newspaper as a copy editor and writer, and four semesters at my college newspaper, two as a copy editor and two as executive editor and columnist, doing occasional story writing throughout."  
  
"So are you saying," Professor Snape said, not interested in her Muggleness, "that you don't trust anything that the _Daily Prophet_ says about Sirius Black?"  
  
"Well, no," she said. "I have enough experience and common sense to edit out the nonsense and get at what few relevant facts are in there. It seems I have to as people aren't inclined to talk about it."  
  
"What people?" Professor Lupin asked.  
  
"I asked professor McGonagall about him and I found out an awful lot about Dementors. I asked Professor Flitwick and I found out quite a bit about Azkaban. I asked Professor Dumbledore and I had everything that I already knew repeated to me, plus confirmation of what I'd read, that this has something, somewhere along the line, to do with Harry Potter."  
  
"Perhaps you're asking the wrong people," Professor Snape said.  
  
"Really? And who should I be asking?"  
  
Professor Snape pulled another essay off the top of the pile. "I'm sure Lupin can tell you anything you want to know about Black."  
  
As soon as Professor Snape said it, he wished he hadn't. Not that he didn't enjoy putting Lupin, who was quickly sputtering an explanation, on the spot, but as soon as he pulled himself together Lupin could easily turn it around on him. He caught Lupin's glance and glared at him.  
  
"Let me see if I can put this simply," Professor Lupin said. "About twelve years ago, the wizarding world was at the height of a war –"  
  
"– with Voldemort," Professor Sharick said.  
  
"Do not say that," Professor Snape said.  
  
"Ah, right," Professor Lupin said. "At that time, Harry's parents were part of the resistance. One night, soon after going into hiding, Black, who we thought had been on our side but was really one of Voldemort's –"  
  
"Lupin!"  
  
"– spies, sold out the Potters' location to him. When...when he got there, he killed Lily and James. He tried to kill Harry too, but something went wrong with the spell. The killing curse bounced off Harry – leaving that scar – and hit Vol-him," Professor Lupin corrected himself.  
  
"Most people think he's dead," Professor Lupin said. "But there's some of us – a few of us – who know better. That's he's just weak, in hiding, biding his time."  
  
Professor Sharick nodded. "And Black?"  
  
"The next day another wizard, Peter Pettigrew, who was friend of the Potters...and mine...sought out Black and cornered him in the street with a crowd of Muggle onlookers. Black killed them all. Twelve Muggles and one wizard. Now they say that he escaped to come here and finish the job his master started."  
  
"I see."  
  
The room fell silent. Even Professor Snape held back his quill. He hadn't actually been grading anyway. He mentally gave a nod to Lupin's editing. There was much more to the story, but she didn't need to know all that. As long as she kept her nose out of everyone's business –  
  
"Professor Snape, may I ask you a question?" Professor Sharick asked.  
  
"I do not guarantee an answer," he said.  
  
She nodded. "I've noticed that most wizards and witches have an adverse reaction to hearing that name. Why is that?"  
  
"Some people believe," Professor Lupin said, "that because he was so terrible and powerful, the mere mention of his name will cause him to appear. Others are simply fearful, and children picked it up from their parents."  
  
"What do you think Professor Lupin?"  
  
"He's a murderer who doesn't deserve the publicity he gets from people actively not saying his name."  
  
"Professor Snape?"  
  
"The name holds particular significance for some people and if they do not wish to hear it, I will not be the one to force it on them."  
  
"What's your take on it Professor Sharick?" Professor Lupin asked. "Will you say the name?"  
  
She shrugged. "'What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. So Romeo would were he not Romeo called.'"  
  
"I...I'm sorry?" Professor Lupin said.  
  
Professor Snape mentally shook his head. He didn't know what she'd said, but he was sure it was something Muggle. _She could at least make an attempt to fit in_, he thought.  
  
"William Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_," she said. Act II, scene ii, Juliet's balcony monologue where she's trying to justify her love for the son of her parents' enemies."  
  
"But what does that have to do with saying the name Voldemort?" Professor Lupin asked.  
  
Professor Snape's eyes bored into the essay he wasn't really reading. He refused to be interested in the conversation. It was good question though.  
  
"Well, she's saying that names are just labels that have only as much meaning as we choose to give them. Roses are only called roses because that's what we've all agreed upon. If we all got together and decided to call roses peaches, then they'd be peaches. But they'd still smell the same. And Romeo, who's the guy, would still be the same guy whether he was called Romeo Montegue or Romeo Smith or whatever."  
  
Professor Snape looked up at her in spite of himself.  
  
"Point to the story," she concluded, "Voldemort's still going to be Voldemort whether we call him Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know- Who, or Fluffy. It doesn't matter. And since it doesn't matter, we might as well all be clear about it and just call him by his name."  
  
"That makes a lot of sense," Professor Lupin said. "You said this was a play?"  
  
"Mm hmm. William Shakespeare's _The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet_. 16th-17th century English writer."  
  
"A Muggle, I'm sure," Professor Snape said.  
  
"Probably. Also considered by many to be the greatest writer in the English language. Though they also say," Professor Sharick said with a slight smile, "that given enough time, one hundred chimps with typewriters could pound out _Hamlet_."  
  
Both men frowned at her. "What?"  
  
She grinned and shook her head. "Nevermind."  
  
"Still," Professor Snape said, "still, that doesn't take into account –"  
  
The staff room door opened and five more professors walked in. "Oh, hello Professor Snape, Professor Lupin, Professor Sharick," Professor Sprout said.  
  
Professor Snape nodded in return, gathered his stack of essays, and excused himself, suddenly glad for an excuse not to have to finish his sentence. 


	5. Assigned Seats

Professor Sharick looked up as her third-years filed in. She was a bit disappointed that she only got to see each class once a week. It made it harder to remember names to faces. "No one sit down yet," she said. "Just gather in the center aisle."  
  
She grabbed a sheet and a small pointer off her desk and moved to the left most front desk as it faced the front of the classroom. "You'll recall that last week I said that I was going to put you in a different seating arrangement. When I call your name, come sit down. This is where you'll be unless I say otherwise. Ernie Macmillan." Ernie seemed dismayed at having been called first. Professor Sharick moved across the front. "Parvati Patil. Lisa Turpin. Draco Malfoy –"  
  
"I can't sit there."  
  
Professor Sharick looked up at Draco. "And why would that be?" she asked.  
  
"I don't want to."  
  
"Because..."  
  
"It's the front."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, unless or until you give me a logical and satisfactory reason as to why you can't sit in the front, then you will sit there until I move you. Is that clear?"  
  
He glared at her.  
  
"I'll take the glare as a yes," she said. "Please sit down Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"What if I don't?" he said.  
  
Professor Sharick rested her pointer on her toe. "Your other option would be...?"  
  
"Leave."  
  
Professor Sharick nodded. "I see. If you're that determined not to stay, I suppose I can't physically force you to. However, if that is the case, then I feel obligated to _remind_ you of what it says in the syllabus: that all five years of this course are required for you to graduate."  
  
He continued to glare at her. "Why do we have to have assigned seats anyway? No one else gives us assigned seats."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, you're going to find that nothing, or at least very little, of what I do is without a purpose. That being said, if you will sit down and allow me to seat the rest of your classmates, I will address your question. Please sit down."  
  
He sat.  
  
"Thank you. Susan Bones." She moved across the aisle. "Neville Longbottom. Mandy Brocklehurst. Blaise Zabini. Justin Finch-Fletchley. Harry Potter."  
  
The rest of the class was seated without incident. Draco seemed distinctly unhappy to have Dean Thomas sitting behind him, though Dean was probably twice as unhappy because he also had Vincent Crabbe behind him. Ron Weasley sat two behind Parvati with only Millicent Bulstrode behind him. Hermione was also in the third row, two behind Neville on the aisle, with Pansy Parkinson in front of her and Theodore Nott behind her.  
  
"Start passing your homework forward," Professor Sharick said. "Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"What."  
  
"Take a look around the room. What do you notice about where I've seated everyone?"  
  
Draco snatched the homework Dean had passed up. "I'm somewhere I don't want to be," he said.  
  
"So it seems. What about everyone else?"  
  
Draco smirked. "I really don't care what they think about where they are."  
  
Professor Sharick nodded. Time for a change of tactics.  
  
"Look at the five people immediately surrounding you. What _don't_ you see?"  
  
Now he did look. "No other Slytherins," he said.  
  
"Right. Now look at the five people around Miss Turpin to your left. What don't you see?"  
  
He looked. "No other Ravenclaws," he said.  
  
"Right again. Now, based on that, what can you conclude about the seating of the rest of the class?"  
  
"No one is sitting near anyone else from their own house."  
  
"Correct. Three for three. Now," she glanced at her seating chart and looked to the back aisle corner, "Mr. Boot, why do you suppose I would seat everyone that way?"  
  
"Um, so we don't pass notes?" Terry said.  
  
Professor Sharick smiled. "Well, that's true, that did cross my mind. Why else?"  
  
"Um, because...we may have to do group work with other people?"  
  
"Exactly," Professor Sharick said. "You all live and work with the same people every day and have been for the last two years. One of the most important things you can learn, I think, is how to work with people you don't commonly interact with or with whom you don't necessarily get along. The four main group projects will be done in groups of four, one from each house." She looked at Draco. "Does that answer your question Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"That doesn't explain why I'm in the front," he said.  
  
"You're in the front, Mr. Malfoy, so I can keep an eye on you."  
  
The class burst into suppressed laughter. Except the Slytherins. They scowled.  
  
"Surely, you're kidding," Draco said.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, another thing you're gong to find is that, just as I expect you to be truthful with me, I will always strive to be truthful with you."  
  
The laughter renewed itself. Professor Sharick looked down the line to the end of the front row. "I'm glad you're entertained Mr. Potter," she said. "Because you're in the front for the same reason."  
  
The Slytherins joined in the laughter and it was the Gryffindors' turn to scowl. Professor Sharick mentally shook her head. She didn't give Harry the opportunity to protest.  
  
"We started last week attempting to define ethics. Miss Abbott, tell me where we left off..."

* * *

Professor Snape was back in the staff room, this time sitting on a back couch with the latest issue of _Primary Potions_ open to an enticing article on the newest uses for Grubberfin roots.  
  
He wasn't reading it. About ten minutes earlier Professor Sharick had come in and sat at the table to grade an early batch of essays. He didn't know what he found so fascinating about it. It was actually quite ridiculous. Three times in the last ten minutes she'd knocked over her inkbottle. And each time she'd cleaned up the mess with a rag she'd found in a drawer by the sink. It was a task she could much more easily have done with her wand.  
  
_Muggle college_, Professor Snape thought. He didn't really know anything about Muggle college, but he was pretty sure Muggles did that when they were in their twenties. If she were only in her late twenties she couldn't have been doing magic very long. Maybe she just didn't know the spells.  
  
That line of thinking brought him back to his original point of her being unqualified. _Maybe she knows the spells,_ he thought, _but isn't used to incorporating them_.  
  
The inkbottle tipped again. That seemed to be the last straw. She slammed her quill on the table, the first expression of uncontrolled anger he'd seen from her. She took a breath before cleaning up the mess, again with the rag. She corked the bottle and placed it on the opposite side of the table, as far from her as she could reach. She regarded the quill then laid that next to the bottle. She pulled a thin metallic object from her robes, about twelve centimeters in length. She pushed an end with her thumb. It made a _click-ick_ sound and she continued to grade.  
  
_I can't believe she carries that around with her_, he thought. _That_, he thought hard, _that pen_.  
  
He had meant to talk to her. She hadn't noticed him when she'd come in and he'd remained still and silent. He had meant to talk to her. About the assigned seating.  
  
He'd had a few complaints about it, but not nearly as many as he'd expected, nor had they been as vehement. Even Draco Malfoy seemed like he was complaining only because it would look out of place if he didn't. He had meant to talk to her.  
  
She chuckled over something she'd read. He opened his mouth. The staff room door opened.  
  
"Ah, good evening Professor Sharick."  
  
Professor Snape fumed. _Lupin..._  
  
"Good evening Professor Lupin," she said.  
  
"Taken to grading papers in the staff room too, eh?"  
  
_You're such an idiot Lupin_, Professor Snape thought.  
  
"Well, it did seem like a good idea when I started," Professor Sharick said.  
  
_Well, what's wrong with it?_  
  
"What's wrong with it?" Professor Lupin asked.  
  
"It's too quiet in here," she said. "I like a bit of background noise."  
  
"Ahh, a good conversation then?"  
  
_I had meant to talk to her.  
_  
"No, music," she said. "I actually find talking rather distracting."  
  
Professor Snape smirked at the back of Lupin's head. _I know when I'm right_.  
  
"Oh, I see," Professor Lupin said, starting to get up. "I won't disturb you then."  
  
"No, no, it's all right," she said. "I was just about to take a break anyway."  
  
_Don't pander to him. You only started ten minutes ago._  
  
"Well, if you're sure..."  
  
"I'm sure. Sit down."  
  
"Thank you," Professor Lupin said. "Because there was something I had wanted to talk to you about."  
  
She put her pen down. "Fire away."  
  
_This should be interesting_.  
  
"You know you caused quite a stir this week, assigning seats."  
  
_Damn you Lupin!  
_  
"Is that so?" Professor Sharick leaned back and crossed her arms.  
  
"Well, Harry mentioned it, just in passing..."  
  
"Did he."  
  
"You said he was in the front so you could keep an eye on him. He was just a bit confused."  
  
Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. Malfoy hadn't told him that.  
  
"Professor Lupin, if Mr. Potter has a question about something I've said or done, he's perfectly welcome to come see me himself."  
  
_Well put_.  
  
"Oh yes, of course," Professor Lupin said. "Please don't think Harry asked me to come speak to you. He just happened to mention it in my presence. Didn't even seem all that upset about it. But I was confused."  
  
"Oh, you were confused. I thought he was confused."  
  
"Well, he was."  
  
"But you just said you were confused."  
  
"I am."  
  
"Uh huh. So you were both confused."  
  
"_Yes_."  
  
Professor Snape could barely contain his glee. Her verbal shoving was much more entertaining when he wasn't on the receiving end of it.  
  
"All right, just so we're clear," Professor Sharick said. "But let me ask you this Professor," she said. "Did Mr. Potter happen to mention, in passing, that I put Mr. Malfoy in the front for the same reason, or did he edit that part out?"  
  
"No, actually, he didn't say that."  
  
_Interesting. Where is she going with this?_ Professor Snape thought, now glad he hadn't been the one to bring it up.  
  
"Suppose he had," Professor Sharick said. "Would that have changed you're perspective at all?"  
  
"No, I don't think so."  
  
"No? Suppose instead of 'She put me in the front to keep an eye on me,' he'd said, 'She put me in the front to keep an eye on me, but she also put Malfoy in the front to keep an eye on him.' You're telling me those don't have distinctly different connotations?"  
  
"Well, it does give a different perspective..." Professor Lupin said.  
  
"And in the order it actually happened: 'She put Malfoy in the front to keep an eye on him and she put me in the front for the same reason.' That's different yet again, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," he said. "They both lend an aspect of fairness to it, I suppose."  
  
"And I'm sure Harry knows that," Professor Sharick said, "which is why he wasn't all that upset about it. I'm willing to bet Draco knows it too."  
  
Professor Snape found himself nodding along with Lupin. _She's good_, he thought.  
  
"Here's what I figure about these two," Professor Sharick said. "They're quite a bit alike."  
  
"Oh, I don't know about that," Professor Lupin said.  
  
_Huh. Lupin and I agree on something_.  
  
"They're both very smart, incredibly ambitious, and cocky as hell," she said.  
  
_Can't disagree with that_.  
  
"At the end of a week they're going to think one of three things about me: They'll be furious with me, content with, or at least have an understanding of, what I've done, or be completely indifferent. As long as they're both the same, I'm good. If one of them is one thing and the other is something else, then I probably messed up somewhere."  
  
"Because something was unfair," Professor Lupin said. "Or at least perceived to be unfair."  
  
"Right. Unless of course I did on purpose."  
  
Professor Lupin nodded. "You know, you impress me more and more each time we speak. You have a great sensibility for this sort of thing, especially for someone so young."  
  
_Really Lupin, she can't be_ that _much younger than us._  
  
"Um thanks," she said. "I think."  
  
"Well, I shall leave you to your essay grading. I have some of my own to do anyway. Good night Professor Sharick."  
  
"Good night, Professor Lupin."  
  
_You really are an idiot Lupin_, Professor Snape thought as the staff room door closed.  
  
Professor Sharick stared at the door a moment after he left. She shook her head and gathered up her essays. She made for the door.  
  
_I wonder, what kind of music do you listen to?_  
  
She stopped.  
  
_What's she doing?  
_  
She looked directly at him.  
  
_Uh oh._  
  
She tossed him a knowing eyebrow and a slight smile then left the room.  
  
Professor Snape got up and walked to the table. _She forgot her pen_, he thought.


	6. Guinea Pig Granger

Professor Sharick's third-year lesson that day had evolved into a discussion of ethical and unethical spells. She paced the front of the room twirling her wand in her fingers.  
  
"Mr. Thomas," she said. "What would make a particular spell unethical?"  
  
"Dark Arts are unethical," Dean said.  
  
"Give me an example."  
  
Dean shifted slightly in his chair. "Um, I don't know." He said. "Maybe a spell that knocks a person off his feet, sends him flying."  
  
She nodded. "Always?" she asked.  
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
"Miss Parkinson, hypothetical situation," Professor Sharick said. "You're in a park at night. It's late, it's dark. You've cut through to get home faster. There's someone walking behind you. He's been a bit too close for a bit too long. Pansy's eyes went a bit wide. "You walk faster, he walks faster. Then he speeds up even more." Professor Sharick moved closer to Pansy as she spoke. The class was hushed. "He makes a move. What do you do?"  
  
"Um..." Pansy's voice was shaky.  
  
"You want him as far from you as possible, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"What kind of spell might you use?"  
  
"Um, I don't – maybe, maybe a spell," her voice became more confident, "that knocks him off his feet," she said. "Sends him flying."  
  
Professor Sharick nodded and walked back to the front of the classroom. "Mr. Thomas, ethical or unethical?" she asked.  
  
"I guess it'd be okay in that kind of situation..." Dean said.  
  
"So what would make a particular spell unethical?" Professor Sharick asked again.  
  
Dean shrugged. "I don't know Professor."  
  
"Mr. Weasley," Professor Sharick said, "give me a fairly simple, benign spell."  
  
"Um, how 'bout _winguardium leviosa_," Ron said.  
  
Professor Sharick righted her wand in her hand. _All right you_, she thought to herself, _don't screw up this magic stuff._ She pointed her wand down the aisle and slightly to the left. "_Winguardium leviosa_."  
  
Out of Hermione's very full bag, a small brown diary floated. The diary had a lock on it. She reached up for it, but missed. "Um, Professor –"  
  
"Sit down Miss Granger," she said. "Miss Bulstrode, give me another fairly simple, benign spell."  
  
"_Alohomora_," Millicent said. The rest of the Slytherins snickered, delighted at what must be coming. Hermione protested again.  
  
"But Professor –"  
  
"_Alohomora_," Professor Sharick said.  
  
The lock came undone and the pages flipped open as if a breeze had gone through. A piece of paper fell out. Hermione snatched it up before Theodore Nott behind her could make a grab for it. She held it tightly in her lap and stared hard at her desk. The Slytherins roared with laughter and some Gryffindors protested.  
  
"Quiet!" Professor Sharick yelled and the din went down to a murmur. She walked down the aisle. She pulled the diary out of the air and handed it back to Hermione. "I do apologize for that Miss Granger," she said. "Thank you for being my guinea pig. Mr. Thomas."  
  
"What?" Dean said. He was glaring at her.  
  
"Ethical or unethical?" she asked as she moved back to the front of the classroom.  
  
"_Un_ethical."  
  
"Quite right." The murmur of laughter and protests had finally died down. Professor Sharick sat on her desk. "And yet, they were two benign spells selected by your classmates. So," she said, "what is it that makes a particular spell ethical or unethical?"  
  
Dean pursed his lips. "I guess," he said, "it depends on what you're going to do with it."  
  
Professor Sharick grinned and hopped off her desk. "Exactly! Say it again, louder, so everyone can hear you."  
  
"I said, it depends on what you're going to do with the spell, if it's ethical or unethical."  
  
"Good," she said. "Intention is a key component to determining if something is ethical or unethical. However, it is not the only component. Consequence and perception are also very important. My intention may have been to make a point, but the consequence and Miss Granger's perception overshadow that."  
  
The bell rang and the class packed up their books. "We're going to start working on our first group projects in the next couple of weeks," Professor Sharick said. "So look over that part of your syllabus."  
  
Professor Sharick sat at the correct side of her desk and began looking through her stack of homework to make sure she had everyone's.  
  
"Excuse me, Professor?"  
  
She looked up. The room had emptied except for Harry and Ron standing in front of her, Ron looking particularly furious, and Hermione, who was sitting at Neville's desk, still staring down. "What can I do for you gentlemen."  
  
"Professor, I think that was really, really unethical," Harry said. "Even if you only making a point."  
  
"You're right," Professor Sharick said.  
  
Harry opened his mouth and closed it again, clearly not expecting that.  
  
"That's it?" Ron said.  
  
"You had something else in mind, Mr. Weasley?"  
  
"You saw the way all the Slytherins laughed," Harry said, getting angry. "They won't let any of the Gryffindors, especially Hermione, forget that for along time."  
  
"Harry, Ron, I want you two to understand a few things. Whether or not you agree with me is up to you, but please try to understand. First, I'm sure, in short order your Slytherin classmates will find something else to occupy their attention. They seem to cycle through things fairly quickly. Second, keep in mind that I try to treat people with a certain degree of fairness, as in equally. You'll recall both you and Mr. Malfoy are in my front row. Third, a certain amount of righteousness is all right, as long as you're consistent."  
  
"We're not being righteous," Ron said.  
  
"Yes you are. Your friend has been wronged and you are here bravely defending her.  
  
"Now consider this," Professor Sharick said. "Suppose instead of using Miss Granger as my guinea pig I had chosen Miss Parkinson. Would that have changed the ethics of what I did?"  
  
Ron looked like he very much wanted to say yes. "I...suppose not," Harry said.  
  
"And since it doesn't, would the two of you have still come up here to take issue with my teaching methods?"  
  
Harry sighed. "No."  
  
"Do you see what I mean about being consistent?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But Pansy's never been nice to us," Ron said. "Why should we bother defending her?"  
  
"You defended Hermione why? Because she's your friend or because it was the right thing to do?" Professor Sharick asked.  
  
"Both," Harry said.  
  
"Right. So since the ethics of what I did didn't change, nor should the rightness of defending – insert name of your choice. It doesn't matter who it is."  
  
"But we can't defend everybody," Ron said.  
  
"No, no, of course not," Professor Sharick said. I'm not saying you should try or should even necessarily want to. If you do, that's your choice. What I am saying, and take this as a teaching point not a hard and fast rule, is that you should be aware of when you're being inconsistent."  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance.  
  
"Think about this," Professor Sharick said. "Had I chosen Miss Parkinson as my guinea pig, then most likely all of the Gryffindors would have left the room just as entertained as the Slytherins were today, am I right?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I guess."  
  
"And the two of you would not have been up here being so righteous, correct?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Professor Sharick shook her head. "The sad part about it Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," she said, "is that I don't think any of her fellow Slytherins would have been up here either."  
  
She paused and looked at Hermione. "You have two very good friends here Miss Granger. You're very lucky."  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
"And I do apologize for having used you as my guinea pig. It was not well thought out on my part."  
  
Hermione blinked.  
  
"Do any of you have any other questions of me?"  
  
Harry and Ron shook their heads.  
  
"Very well," Professor Sharick said. "Get yourselves to class or wherever you need to be and I'll see you next week."  
  
Professor Sharick watched them leave and chewed on the end of her wand. _You know something,_ she thought to herself, _sometimes you're a damned hypocrite_. 


	7. A Bit Silly

"Good morning Professor Lupin, Professor Snape."

Professor Snape nodded his hello to Professor Sharick as she sat down between them. She said the same thing every morning. He liked breakfast. It was the only time she seemed even remotely predictable. She ate almost the same thing every morning: American cheese omelet, two pancakes, milk, tea, and raspberries. Sometimes it was poached eggs instead of omelets, French toast instead of pancakes, half a grapefruit instead of raspberries. Nothing too drastic.

"Good morning Professor Sharick," Professor Lupin said. "You know, professor Sharick, I was thinking –"

"That's good," she said.

Professor Snape quietly snorted.

Professor Lupin looked confused. Professor Sharick grinned. "I'm sorry," she said. "Please continue." She giggled.

"Ah, yes," he said. "Well, I was thinking that since we've been here over a month, it was about time we got on a first name basis. I'd like it if you called me Remus."

"Oh, of course," Professor Sharick said. "And please call me Sara."

"Thank you."

"Though," she said, "not in front of students, if you don't mind."

"Whatever you like," Professor Lupin said. "May I ask why?"

"Well, it's a bit unprofessional, don't you think?"

Professor Snape smirked behind his toast.

"Oh yes, you're right, of course," Professor Lupin said.

Professor Snape hated sitting next to those two. Except for her random, entertaining comments, they really just made him ill. Especially Lupin. _You sound like you're halfway to asking her on a date,_ he thought. _If only she knew._

The ceiling was alight with activity. "Mail call," Professor Sharick said as a letter flopped into her lap. She opened it and started to skim it.

"Letter from home?" Professor Lupin asked?

"Yeah. From my boyfriend."

_Boyfriend?_

"Oh," Professor Lupin said. "I um, didn't realize you were ah, attached."

"Mm hmm."

_So much for that date._

"I think you're the only one on the staff who is," Professor Lupin said.

"Yes, I suppose that must be difficult," she said. "Having to live here and all."

"He must miss you."

_Oh please._

"Oh, I know he does," she said. "He's spent two-thirds of a three-page letter whining about how I'm not home." A small smile played across her lips. "Luke's a world class whiner you know."

"Oh..."

_That's an odd way to describe one's significant other._

"People come from miles around just to listen to him and study his technique," she said. "He's very popular."

_What?_

She couldn't keep a straight face. She started to laugh.

"Oh," Professor Lupin said. "You're making that up."

"Well, that last bit," she said. "He is something of a prolific whiner though." She turned to page two of the letter and read a section in a low whiny tone. "'Sara, come home...Sara, I miss you...Sara, I had to make the bed this morning –' which, I don't know where he got that from because I don't make the bed either – 'Sara, I had to make dinner by myself last night.'" She sighed and rolled her eyes and put the letter away. "Whatever."

Professor Snape glanced at Lupin for his reaction. He was looking back at him and gave a tiny shrug. Professor Snape frowned.

"Though," she said, "I suppose I ought to."

"Ought to what?" Professor Lupin asked.

"Go home."

_Go home?_

"Go – home?"

"Yeah, you know," she said. "For the weekend."

"Oh, for the weekend," he said. "Of course you meant for the weekend."

She polished off the last of her raspberries. "Besides," she said, "I remembered that I have a book at home that will be useful for my classes." She checked her watch. "Speaking of which, I ought to be going. Gentlemen." She nodded to them and left the table.

Professor Snape and Professor Lupin looked at her, looked at each other, and looked back at her as she left. _So much for predictable,_ Professor Snape thought.

* * *

Professor Sharick walked down to her classroom. She knew it was going to be one of those days. Knowing she was going home tended to make her a bit silly.

She opened the door to her classroom. It was empty – except for Fred and George Weasley and Lee Jordon sitting huddled next to her desk. She tiptoed down the aisle and sat in a second row seat. The boys were in an intense discussion of how to strategically place a handful of dungbombs around her desk.

It seemed her Gryffindors were still upset with her. All of her students were disgruntled to some degree, ever since she'd put them into their groups last week. The Slytherins didn't want to work with the Gryffindors and no one wanted to work with the Slytherins. Even though that was the point. But, she figured some of her Gryffindors were still on about the diary incident even though that was two weeks old already.

She did feel a bit bad for Hermione. She'd made the groups up a long time ago, but only a week after the diary incident, she followed through and placed Hermione in a group with Draco. Not that it wasn't for both their benefits, but most thirteen-year-olds don't understand that.

"If we put one here and here, under the chair, they'll go off when she sits down," George was saying.

"She never sits there," Fred said. She sits _on_ the desk."

"So we put 'em on the desk," Lee said.

"No, come on, she'd see them," Fred said. "Now, if we put –"

"You know what I think," Professor Sharick said. All three boys jumped.

"Oh!" George said. "Professor, we didn't, um, we weren't, uh –"

"Here's what I think," she said. She walked over and knelt down in their huddle. She opened her desk drawer and took a dungbomb from Fred. "If you put one in here," she pointed to a side of the drawer where it rubbed against the top, "or here," she pointed underneath the quill tray, "they might go off. I tap my fingers there a lot. I'm kind of fidgety that way. Or you could put it here." She pointed underneath the arm of the chair. "I tap a lot there too. Different sort of sound."

The boys just stared at her. She picked up three dungbombs from the floor and took the last one from Lee. "Is this it?" she asked. Lee nodded. "Door," she said.

Professor Sharick really did like Lee and the Weasley twins. They had a good sense of fun. She was sure that, if she'd been their age, they would have been fast friends. She enjoyed her fair share of misadventures.

Out in the hall Professor Sharick heard a now-familiar codgy voice. "Mr. Filch!" she said. "Just the man I wanted to see." The boys looked nearly ready to panic and run.

Mr. Filch eyed his least favorite fifth-years suspiciously. "Well, well," he said. "What 'ave you three been up to? Causin' your usual trouble, I expect. Don' worry Professor, I'll take care of 'em."

"Actually Mr. Filch," Professor Sharick said, "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Jordon spotted a handful of dunbombs around my desk and were being ever so gracious in helping me clean them out."

Mr. Filch shifted his gaze from her to the boys and back several times. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Quite sure Mr. Filch."

"But I mean, are you sure _they_ weren't the ones who put them there?"

"I know what I've told you," Professor Sharick said. "Here," she said, handing him the dungbombs, "I trust you know how to properly dispose of these?"

"Yes..."

"Thank you Mr. Filch, you have been most kind."

"Er –"

"Good day Mr. Filch!"

"Er – good day Professor." Mr. Filch walked away, still eyeing Lee and the twins.

When Mr. Filch was out of sight around the corner, Professor Sharick turned to the boys. George and Lee were wide-eyed and Fred's mouth was hanging open. "You three have class, I suppose?" They nodded. "I suggest you get there."

The boys bolted.

"Um, Professor?" Lee said, turning around. "Thanks." He ran to catch up with the twins.

_I suppose it's just as well I'm not their age,_ Professor Sharick thought. _They would have gone way overboard with the duct tape._

* * *

"I don't recall putting you in charge," Pansy said.

"Well, someone has to be in charge," Harry said.

"So it's automatically you? What if I want to do it?"

"Who'd listen to you?"

"Oh, would you two stop so we can get this done?" Susan Bones said. "It doesn't matter who's in charge. I know none of us want to be here, but _I_ would like to pass this class, _if_ that's all right with the two of you."

That shut them up, but Professor Sharick knew it wouldn't last. It was the fifth time Susan had yelled at them, and that was just today. She continued her rounds of the groups. Her other trouble group was on the other side of the room.

"Can't you even do one simple thing?" Hermione said.

"Not everyone's a bookworm," Draco said. "Some people actually have a life."

"I have a life," Padma snapped. "And I managed to look up twice as much as you did,"

"Obviously you don't have as much of a life as I do."

"Oh yeah?" Ernie said. "Can I check that with Pansy?"

"Shut your mouth Macmillan."

"I bet Potter's talkin' her up over there."

"I said, shut your mouth!"

"Can we get back to work please?" Padma said.

"No," Hermione said. "We can't do anything without all four parts. It's another class period wasted."

"You gave me history, the most boring one, what did you expect?" Draco said.

"_You_ said you didn't care what you did. I gave you that one because I thought it would be easy enough that even _you_ could handle it."

"I don't have to take that from you, Mudblood –"

"Language Mr. Malfoy, language," Professor Sharick finally cut in. "What seems to be the problem over here?"

"Malfoy didn't do his part of the research." Hermione put her nose in the air.

"I see. And why would that be Mr. Malfoy?"

"I have better things to do than look up stupid history facts."

"Such as?"

"Such as?" Draco repeated.

"Yes. What things do you have to do that are better than looking up stupid history facts that will make your team a success in the task you have been assigned?"

"Quidditch practice."

"Well, if that's so much more important than your _grades_, I'll just do your part myself," Hermione snapped.

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"Not fine," Professor Sharick said. "Mr. Malfoy, could you play a Quidditch game with only two chasers?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Humor me."

Draco shrugged. "You could do it," he said. "It'd be a lot harder though."

"Very true, very true. How about this: Do you think the teaching staff here would be as effective if there were one teacher missing?"

"What? I don't know."

"No, right?" she said. "Because the other Professors would have to take time out from their classes to cover the other class. Possible, but just like Quidditch with two chasers, it's harder, less efficient, and probably less successful. The staff is a team just like a Quidditch team."

"Fine, so what?"

"Just as you and your three classmates are a team. Each of you must do your part to the best of your ability, no more," she looked at Hermione, "and certainly no less. This is the easiest, most efficient way to successful."

"But if I could do the whole thing by myself, I wouldn't have to listen to her being pushy or those two whining," Draco said. "And I'd still pass."

Professor Sharick's hand held off the protests. "Well, no you wouldn't, Mr. Malfoy, since you're being graded on your teamwork as well as your end product. In any case, doing it by yourself would sacrifice efficiency and quality, so you might not end up doing that well anyway." Draco scowled. "You need each other," she said, "if for no other reason than to get a good grade. There's no 'I' in team Mr. Malfoy."

Draco leaned back on the hind legs of his chair and smirked.

"Yeah, but there's an 'M' and an 'E,'" he said.

Professor Sharick nodded. "You're very clever."

"Thank you."

"How's that working out for you?"

"What?"

"Being clever."

Draco was bit thrown. "Well, uh...great."

"Keep it up then. Keep it right up."

Professor Sharick gave Draco's shoulder a pat and turned to move to the next group, knowing her four students, in a moment of complete unity, were giving her a single look of pure, undiluted confusion.

She smirked to herself. _The first rule of Fight Club_, she thought, _is you don't talk about Fight Club._

* * *

A/N 1: That last bit of dialogue and of course that last line are all from the script of _Fight Club_, Screenplay by Jim Uhls and based on the novel by Chuck Palahnuik.

A/N 2: As long as I'm citing things, I'll do what I should have done in the beginning: Any non-original characters, places, and things native to the Harry Potter world do not belong to me, they belong to J. K. Rowling.

A/N 3: I generally don't make a habit of answering reviews in the chapter, I prefer e-mail, but since it was a good question and reviewer duj did not provide an e-mail address, I shall address it here. As for your chapter 5 comment, I did in fact make a diagram. Given forty students, ten per house, and four rows of five with an aisle down the center, it can be done. The first column of four, Ernie's column, is Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw. Parvati's column is Gryffindor, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Slytherin. Lisa Turpin's column is Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff. Draco's column is Slytherin, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Gryffindor. And so on.

As for your chapter 6 comments (I very much appreciated the length and analysis, by the way), even if Professor Snape's intentions were solely good, which I doubt (which is not to say that it was solely bad either), perception counts for a lot: Neville's, his classmates', Lupin's, Sharick's. Professor Snape may well have a legitimate concern about Neville's ability to do magic at this point, and if he'd said so to Lupin in private, he'd be expressing more good intention than bad intention. But that it was in public made it more bad than good, hence, unprofessional. And his delivery didn't help either.


	8. Won'tOr Can't?

"I thought you didn't like grading in the staff room," Professor Snape said. "Too quiet."

"Change of scenery," Professor Sharick said. "Do you usually make a habit of not telling people when you're in the room?"

"You knew I was there all along."

"Not the whole time," she admitted. "Just since Remus came in."

"Hm."

"Professor Sharick looked at him. "You know, I really don't understand why you two don't get along."

"What would make you say that?" Professor Snape said, getting up to make himself a cup of tea. "And whether we do or don't really isn't any of your concern."

Professor Sharick nodded and changed the subject. "Okay, here's a professional question for you: Do you often have a problem with Miss Granger writing considerable more than you've asked for?"

Professor Snape stopped and frowned. Granger definitely wasn't one of his favorite students, but he'd never taken issue with her volume of writing. "No..." he said. "Though I'm not sure what you mean by 'problem.' What exactly are you grading?"

"First round of papers and presentation," she said. "Pretty dismal. I mean, let's say you assign – well, you go by scroll don't you – say, two scrolls and she gives you four."

"I believe she does that in all her classes."

"I thought as much."

"That bothers you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't bother you? That she's basically ignoring your direction? Among other things."

"I suppose I never thought of it that way –"

"Ah, good afternoon Professors," Professor Sinistra said, coming into the staff room. "All ready fort he Halloween feast tonight?"

"Of course," Professor Sharick said.

"Ecstatic," Professor Snape said.

"I've just come in for a bit of tea," Professor Sinistra said. "Seem to be out in my office. Professor Sharick, could you be a dear and grab a mug from the shelf please?"

"Oh, ah, surely."

Professor Snape looked at the mugs. They were on a shelf that had to be at least a foot out of her reach. She noticed it too and seemed to be looking around on the ground for something. Whatever it was she must not have found it because she started inspecting the shelving. _What is she doing?_ he thought.

"Um, let's see..." Professor Sharick said.

"Oh any mug will do," Professor Sinistra said, poking though the tea.

"Right. Yes." Professor Sharick bit on lip. "Um..."

_She can't be serious,_ Professor Snape thought. He pulled out his wand and whispered. "_Accio_ mug." The front mug floated down off the shelf. She backed away and he let it drop into her hands. She whipped around to face him. Her eyes flicked from his to his wand and back again. He quickly put his wand away.

"Ah, here we go," Professor Sinistra said. "Black Cherry, my favorite." Professor Sinistra took the mug from Professor Sharick. "Thank you dear."

"Uh, any time."

"See you all at the feast tonight!"

The room was silent again. Professor Sharick and Professor Snape continued to stare at each other.

"Professor Sharick –"

She didn't wait for him to finish. She snatched up her essays and followed Professor Sinistra out the door.

* * *

Professor Snape patrolled his hall looking for anything suspicious. Anything.

_Lupin had something to do with this,_ he thought. _He must have. I know it!_

He turned a corner back towards the Great Hall and saw Professor Sharick coming around another corner. "What do you think you're doing?"

She walked past him. "I'm patrolling. What's it look like?"

He followed her. "By yourself?"

"My understanding of the instruction was that we were to split up."

"I don't think you should be by yourself."

"Any particular reason why?"

"I've seen you do magic," he said. "Or rather, I've seen you _not_ do magic."

Now she stopped. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Sirius Black is powerful and dangerous. You don't even have your wand out."

"There's more than one way to skin a cat."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not everything has to be done or is best done by magic."

"Oh," he said, "so you won't," he smirked, "or can't?"

"Are you calling me incapable?"

"You certainly seemed incapable in the staff room –"

"I don't recall asking for your assistance on that."

"What else were you going to do? Climb the shelving?"

"I told you there's more than one way to do things."

"You can't fight Sirius Black without magic!"

"Why not? He wouldn't be expecting it and the element of surprise is always a tactical advantage."

"Only if you have something conventional to back it up."

"Who said I didn't?"

"I did."

"Well, you certainly like to assume things, don't you?"

"Well, if you –"

"Is there a problem here?"

They both whipped around. "No."

"Forgive us, Headmaster," Professor Snape said with a glance to Professor Sharick. Professor Sharick and I were merely having a...difference of tactical opinion."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Did either of you find anything?"

"No Headmaster."

"No Professor Dumbledore."

"Nor has anyone else, it seems," Professor Dumbledore said. "I doubt he'll try anything again tonight. Sara, you're free to go to bed if you wish."

"Thank you Professor." She turned away.

"Headmaster, might I have a word with you?" Professor Snape said. "In private?"

"Of course Severus. Come this way."

Professor Snape followed Professor Dumbledore into the Great Hall. He glanced back to see if Professor Sharick had stopped to listen, but she had already disappeared around the corner.


	9. A Wolf Named Romulus

Professor Snape tapped his leg and tried to concentrate on the Quidditch game. Not that he could even see, there was so much wind, rain, and fog. And it was damned cold. _This shouldn't be an all-weather sport,_ he thought.

He glanced to his right. Somehow he'd ended up next to _her_ again. If only he could have seen into the stands when he came up, he'd have sat elsewhere. At least she wasn't speaking to him. She hadn't much in the last week, and while he couldn't really blame her, he wasn't going to apologize for it either. Nor was he going to deny his suspicions that she simply didn't know how to perform magic.

The wind whipped hair in his face and a loud ding indicated that one of the teams had scored. Gryffindor.

He's heard about the diary incident, certainly, but two "fairly simple, benign spells" weren't going to save her if Black caught up with her.

He watched her watch the game. He imagined she'd never seen a Quidditch game before, or even the American version, Quodpot. Being barely able to see the field, she was probably pretty confused. Professor Snape wasn't especially inclined to explain, and he was pleased that for once, Lupin wasn't around to explain either. It was nearly that time of the month for him and he was holed up in his office. Fortunately she hadn't asked about it.

She pushed some hair out of her face, frowned and looked over her left shoulder, away from the Quidditch pitch. Professor Snape tried to look over that way too, but he couldn't see anything. She continued to stare into the fog.

_What's over there?_ Professor Snape wondered. He glanced around the stands but no one else had seemed to notice her preoccupation. _What could possibly be so damned fascinating about fog?_ he thought. _And why does it have to be so damned cold? It must have dropped five degrees in the last ten minutes. Not that anyone cares. No one ever seems to care. They just – _Professor Snape stopped his mental rant. _Dementors._ It had to be.

Suddenly everyone in the stands had jumped up, yelling and pointing at the field. He turned back to Professor Sharick as the Dementors left, driven off by Dumbledore's patronus, but she was just disappearing out of the stands. _Curious. _

Professor Snape walked down to Lupin's office. He trusted completely in his ability to make the Wolfsbane potion and he had enough sense to know Lupin would take it, but still, he liked to be sure. He was almost to the door when he heard a shriek from inside. He ran the rest of the way and charged inside. Professor Sharick stood backed against a chair, eyes wide, breathing hard. A small, gray, wolfish tail disappeared into the next room. "Are you all right?" he asked, grabbing her arm. "It didn't bite you, did it?"

"No, no. No, no," she said, straightening up and smoothing herself out. "It just, I just, well, I was startled, that's all. See, I don't like dogs very much-"

"That was a wolf."

"Oh, well, canine, whatever. I'm not so much a fan see, I'm more of a cat person." Professor Snape frowned. "Anyway," Professor Sharick continued, "I'd just come in to see Remus and he wasn't here so I was going to leave him a note, but them this wolf came out of nowhere and startled the crap out of me though I think it was more scared of me than I was of it because it jumped about ten feet in the air, skittered around the room a bit, and bolted when you came in-"

"Yes, well, we should go," Professor Snape said, pulling on her arm.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Oh wait, I was gonna leave a note."

"He pulled her arm again. "He'll know you were here."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Positive." Professor Snape pushed her out the door in front of him and magically locked the door behind him.

Professor Snape came to breakfast the next morning to find Professor Sharick's seat still empty and Remus Lupin picking at his food. Professor Snape sat down. "I should have you fired for your negligence last night."

"I'm amazed – grateful – you haven't already," Lupin said.

"Anyone could have walked into that room," Professor Snape said. "A student or-"

"Yes, yes, you're right," Lupin said. "I – it was careless of me."

"You, of all people, Lupin, should know you have no room for error. Just because the Headmaster tolerates you-"

"I know, I know."

"Quite obviously Lupin, you do not know-"

"Good morning Remus, Professor Snape."

Professor Snape disengaged from his castigation and turned to his breakfast. He was interested to see how Lupin would talk his way out of this one.

Lupin turned to face her. "Sara, I am so sorry."

She frowned. "Hm? About what?"

"Last night. I was careless-"

"Negligent," Professor Snape said.

"-Negligent," Lupin repeated, "to have left my office door unlocked while I was, ah, not there." He ran a hand through his hair. "I, uh-"

"Oh, you mean the wolf," Professor Sharick said. "It only startled me. Not a problem."

"Except that it is a problem," Professor Snape said. "Anyone, including students, could have walked into that office and been significantly more than startled."

"Point taken," Professor Sharick said. "You're a cat person, aren't you."

"Excuse me?"

"A cat person, like me. You don't like canines."

"What I like and dislike is irrelevant," Professor Snape said. "What is relevant is that that wolf is a dangerous creature that should not be tolerated on the grounds." He fixed his gaze on Lupin, who stared at his plate.

"Oh," Professor Sharick said. "Yes, well I … suppose that's true." She cut a piece of her omelet. "So this wolf," she asked Lupin, "is it a pet or something?"

"It most certainly is not a pet," Professor Snape said.

"Oh." She ate some more of the omelet. "Does it have a name?"

"It does not belong on the grounds, therefore it does not require a name," he said.

"Oh." She ate a few raspberries.

"Sara," Lupin said slowly, "if you could give it a name, what would it be?"

Professor Snape snarled in the back of his throat. "Lupin."

"Oh that's easy," she said. "I'd name it Romulus. I'm assuming it's a 'he.'"

"Well, yes," Lupin said. "Why Romulus?"

"What, you don't know?" Lupin shrugged. "You must know," she said to Professor Snape.

"I do not know, nor do I care," he said.

"The founding of the city of Rome," she said, turning back to Lupin. "From whence came the basis for all mainstream European and American spells." Lupin shrugged again. "The city," she said, "was founded by two brothers, Romulus and Remus."

"Really?" Lupin said. Professor Snape glanced up in spite of himself.

"And according to the story," Professor Sharick continued, "these two brothers were raised by wolves."

"Huh." Professor Lupin smiled a bit. "That is appropriate."

"Incidentally," Professor Sharick said. The Latin word for wolf is _lupus_ and the adjective form, of a wolf, is _lupinus_." She raised an eyebrow at Lupin.

"Oh," he said. "Yes, yes I do know that."

Professor Snape gritted his teeth. "Now that," he said, getting up from the hall, "is appropriate," and he left the hall.


End file.
